Speak of the Devil
by Grizziesmom
Summary: John is helping Lestrade with a serial murder case where all the victims look like him. He has also begun to see Sherlock tailing him...or is it Sherlock? Rated T, for now...may become M later...


**So I heard this song...I not one for SongFics, but it just screamed a story! I couldn't help myself! The song is called ****_Speak of the Devil_**** by Breathing Theory, a band out of Orlando, FL (don't hold that against them, they're awesome!). Check out the song on YouTube! Anyway, this is just the beginning of this story...to see what y'all think...to see if I should continue with where DocWatson has been leading me on this...**

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_Show yourself and disappear, I cannot see…  
This evil in the eyes of you I don't believe…  
The sanity, the innocence…You take it all…  
The suffering, the violence…You have caused…_

John looked over his shoulder. He saw the tail duck behind a vendor's cart, but he'd caught a glimpse of him. He smirked slightly at this cat and mouse game they'd been playing for three days.

When he'd first realised it was Sherlock on the second day, he'd wanted to run to him. He'd wanted to punch him…hug him..kiss him. But the look in Sherlock's eyes had stopped him cold. The cold, hard anger had actually frightened him. He knew he was crazy for thinking Sherlock would be angry at him. But two days later, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with him, that something wasn't right.

At that moment, he knew he couldn't concentrate on Sherlock. He had to find the address Lestrade had given him. He continued down the small street and found Lestrade and the Yarders standing over another body. It was the fourth in four days.

He'd been working scenes with Detective Inspector Lestrade for two years. He had protested to Lestrade that he would never be any help, but after Greg had allowed him to grieve for Sherlock for a few months, he had insisted. At first, he had insisted via texts that went unanswered. Then, Lestrade had begun showing up on his doorstep and almost literally kidnapped him for the work. John had felt it to be a chore when he first began. He had quickly realised though, that not only did the job make missing Sherlock a little less painful, but he felt like he was back doing something useful that didn't involve the A&E.

As he looked down at the body, he finally made the connection.

"He's getting bolder," John said quietly to Lestrade from his crouched position over the body, "First the sniper, then the close range shot to the hanging and now-now, this."

He indicated the obvious handprints that surrounded the throat of the dead man.

"And," he whispered as he rose and stepped close to Greg, "he looks like me…They all have."

He watched as Greg's eyes slid away from his to rest on the body.

"You knew," John said incredulously. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or angry.

"I suspected on day one," Greg responded to the unasked question, "I was hoping it was a coincidence, but victims two and three confirmed my suspicions. Someone is after you. He's trying out methods before he grabs you."

"Why didn't you say anything?" John asked, keeping the rising ire barely in check. So it was to be anger, "Better yet, why include me on this?"

"Because I wasn't sure at first and I truly value your opinion on these matters. I didn't want to get ahead of myself on this and have you worried for nothing," Greg said simply, looking him in the eye again, "And I figured that the best way to keep an eye on you and keep you safe was to have you surrounded by officers."

John barked out a harsh laugh. He had begun to feel as Sherlock had about the Yarders in his working with them in the past two years. Lestrade had been the exception. Greg's friendship had allowed John to give him a lot more leeway than he had Donovan or Anderson. However, unlike his friend who had been tailing him, he held his tongue on the vicious comment running around in his brain.

"Thanks," he said quietly, even though he really didn't feel grateful, "I appreciate that."

"It's what Sherlock would have wanted, John," Lestrade said quietly, putting his hand reassuringly on John's shoulder.

John looked back to him. Over his shoulder, he saw the figure of the man who had been trailing him across the street from the alley. The look in his eyes wasn't the anger of two days before. There was an emotion on his face John hadn't expected. He wasn't sure whether it was concern or hurt. Then, something else struck him. The face didn't seem…right. He stared, trying to decide if the face he had thought was Sherlock's was actually someone else's.

John turned his attention to Greg when he saw the questioning look out of the corner of his eye. Greg turned and looked across the street, but the figure had disappeared.

"Please tell me you saw him," John said quietly.

He watched as Greg look back to the spot and then turned back to him, a confused look on his face.

"Who?"

John shook his head. He had wanted it to be Sherlock so badly. He had convinced himself that that was who he had seen. Now, he questioned himself…questioned his sanity. He shrugged and smiled sadly at Greg.

"I keep seeing Sherlock," he said simply, "Have done for four days now."

He paused as a thought hit him. The figure he had thought to be Sherlock had been around for four days, since the first murder. His first thought had been that Sherlock could be the murderer. If the figure wasn't Sherlock, that was possible. But if it was Sherlock, he knew that there was no way his friend could kill someone, especially if they looked like John.

He physically and mentally tried to shake himself from the memories, but they persisted. Sherlock had never said the words, but John had suspected that Sherlock had believed himself in love with John. John hadn't realized what it was until Sherlock was gone, but he'd fallen in love as well.

"You've been seeing Sherlock for four days and haven't said anything?" Lestrade asked incredulously.

John just looked at Greg. Leave it to Greg. He didn't tell John he was nuts. He just wanted to know why he hadn't been informed.

"Yeah," John said quietly, "but now, I'm not so sure it's him…I don't know Greg, maybe I'm just imagining him. I-I thought I was-"

Greg clapped him on the shoulder again.

"Come on," he smiled sadly, "We're done here. There's a little place 'round the corner. You look like you could use a drink."

"I could," John said with a sardonic chuckle, "I could use more than one."

Greg chuckled and led him away from the gruesome and now very personal scene.

_Are you not an angel?...Watching over me…  
Sent to save me from myself…Trying to believe…  
I am losing all control…Taking over me…  
Never will I speak of the devil!_

_Take my hands and lead astray, I'm powerless…  
Your poison is consuming me, I must confess…  
So beautiful, seductive…I can't hold on…  
Betrayal, Destructive…It's all my fault!_

He watched. It was all he was allowed to do. He wanted so much more, but moving forward and taking the man he'd loved for nearly six years in his arms was not allowed. He was not allowed. He could only watch as things unfolded. He could only watch as the devil moved in on his angel.

He had not meant for John to be a part of this. But Moran had known, perhaps better than Moriarty had ever gleaned. Moran had known him before John. He knew John's importance. He understood. Moran had immediately recognized it. And that frightened him. He hated when people knew something about him that he had not put out to the world.

He knew Moran was systematically killing "John", working his way up to the real thing. He knew it was to draw him from the shadows. But he also knew that Moran had already underestimated John. When John had seen him two days before, he had been angry that he had been spotted. But today, when John saw him, he had been worried. He was worried that Moran was getting more hands-on with each victim. He could already envision Moran's torture and molestation of John simply because John was someone he cared for.

He watched as Lestrade led John around the corner to the little pub. He trusted Greg. But did he trust him enough to keep John safe. He knew the answer. No. But as one who could only observe, what was he to do?

_Are you not an angel?...Watching over me…  
Sent to save me from myself…Trying to believe…  
I am losing all control…Taking over me…  
Never will I speak of the devil!_

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_Like I said, there's more to come if I get enough responses...It's a great idea...but Doc's being stubborn about developing it due to lack of interest on some other things...(he's been pissy lately...) As always, read and review...Really...REVIEW, please! Let me know what you liked or didn't like...let me know whether I should follow this trail or find another one...PLEASE! ;-P Laterz!_


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